


Heart Of Glass

by badskippy



Series: Back Again [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One minute he was Tom Durlin - the hottest jock in school.  The next he was Thorin Oakenshield.  Now he just needed to find the love of his life - who he was sure was the one guy that most hated him!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back Again

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to popular demand - this is now the beginning of a new series. More dwarfs, more surprises, just MORE to come!

          

* * *

            The crowd was going crazy.  There were only seconds, _seconds_ mind you, and all Tom had to do was ground the ball in the in-goal area and they would win.  It was so close; the score was just a thin slice between winning and losing.  Make the goal, win the game; get tackled and lose it.

            And Tom hated losing.

            It was like a battlefield and Tom did all he could to dodge, weave and avoid attacks.  There were mash-ups left and right, but Tom skillfully avoided them all.  An opponent threw themselves at him but he side-stepped, jumped over them and they landed face down in the dirt. 

            He was closing in the on the ten-meter line when a big bastard came out of nowhere.  It was too late to avoid him and although Tom’s best friend and co-captain came raging like a bull and caught the guy, their momentum kept them going and they slammed into Tom’s side, sending him flying. 

            In horrifying slow-motion, Tom felt himself go up in the air and the ball slipped from his hands.  He tried to reach for it but it was gone.  After that, he hit the ground in a heap and the darkness took him.

 

* * *

            It seemed like the next second, but something told him it was actually several minutes.  He opened his eyes but it was all blurry and someone was shouting at him and shining a light in his eyes.  He couldn’t really remember what happened. 

_Where the fuck am I?  Who’s shouting?  What’re they shouting?!_

            He had the vaguest sensation of floating, weightless then a soft surface was under him; more light and shouting.

            Several faces hovered over him.  Some were looking at him, some were looking elsewhere, none of them familiar.  It was all confusing and he couldn’t really hear anything clearly, it was all just a buzzing.

            Suddenly there was a familiar face.  Hawk-like nose, wide forehead, scuffy cheeks and chin, buzzed ginger hair, dirty face.  He knew this person, this guy.

            _What’s his name?  What’s he bleeding going on about?_

            He concentrated on this one face and just barely the voice came through.

            “Tom!  Tom!  Can you hear me?”

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, then the familiar face spoke again.

            “Tom!  Say something, mate!”

            “Tom?  Who the hell’s Tom?  I’m Thorin.”

            Then the darkness took him again.


	2. One More

 

* * *

 

            Thorin just kept nodding and smiling.  He hoped if he did this long enough the doctor would just go away.  _Blah, Blah, Blah.  I’ve no clue what he’s bleeding talking about.  MIR or NRI or something – Christ, why can’t docs talk like regular blokes?!_   He just kept smiling and occasionally threw in an “Uh-huh,” or a “Yeah, right,” hoping that would do the trick.  He would never understand how a ‘negative’ was good and a ‘positive’ was bad

            _Fuck it._

            His ‘parents’ were here a bit ago and that was fucked up.  He wanted to scream that he had no clue who they were – they certainly didn’t look like Thrain or Fris, but a part of his brain said ‘ _Shut up!’_ plus the confused look on his face apparently had them backing off and the nurse went on explaining about _‘percussion’_ or something. 

            _No, confusion.  Shit, no it was – concussion!  That’s it – possible concussion.  Whatever the bloody hell that meant – it either was or it wasn’t!_

            The doctor still droned on about this or that test and more initials that meant nothing.  _Something about cats tested or something – but what the hell does have to do with anything?  Medical people.  Blah, blah, blah, nothing, nonsense, bullshit, here’s my bill!_  

            Finally the guy was clamming up and said something about overnight observation.  _What?  I am just a circus freak to be gawked at all night?_

            Thorin decided to just nod, shut up and stay here for the night.  Maybe then he could get a grip on what the hell was going on!

* * *

            All Thorin knew, and it was strange, was that one minute he was Tom Durlin, eighteen years old, six-one, fifteen stone, black hair, blue eyes, captain of the rugby team, and the hottest ticket this side of the channel.  The next?  He remembered being Thorin, son of Thrain, the re-claimer of the Dwarf kingdom of Erebor, leader of the company of Thorin Oakenshield, and sadly, dead.

            _Yeah, no wonder I have a headache._

            It was hard to take it all in, but slowly, as everyone was milling about and talking, his mind cleared and the memories of both men began to merge.  A bit anyway.  He just needed a bit of privacy to get on with it. 

            Of course, Dylan was just sitting and glaring at him.

            Thorin had to laugh, to himself of course.  Many called Dylan, The Red Bear and Thorin had to admit, the guy really did look like a big bear.  Six-three, twenty stone, broad, buzzed ginger hair, slight crocked nose – _can’t count how many times it’s been broke_ , permanent five o’clock shadow even at ten in the morning, and hell, the guy even growled when pissed off.  

            Of course, he was also Tom’s best friend.  _Well, Thorin’s now._   They ruled the halls as much as the pitch.  They could almost do as they pleased and did most of time.  They could have who they wanted and, again, did.  Life was good.

            But what about now?

            It was all too much and honestly, he didn’t want company.

            “Mate,” Thorin said.  “You don’t have to hang about.”

            Dylan didn’t say anything or move.  Just sat in the chair oppose the hospital bed, arms folded across his chest and stared at this best friend, a scowl on his face.

            “What?!”  Thorin was getting weirded out.

            Dylan finally stood up and came over to basically lean over his friend.  “Don’t try to bugger about with me.”

            Thorin swallowed and tried not to look nervous, so he settled on trying to angry.  “Piss off!  I don’t know what you’re on about!”

            “Bollocks.  You’re hiding something.”

            Thorin had enough and tried to get out of bed, which of course, he wasn’t supposed to.  Dylan pushed him with both hands on his shoulders to get back in bed, the whole time demanding to know what the fuck he was hiding.  But Thorin wasn’t in the mood to play around and just wanted to be alone, and if had to get out of the bleeding bed to do it, he would!  

            So naturally, two big strapping guys, wrestling back and forth like a couple primary school kids, did the one thing by accident that they usually did on purpose; they bashed foreheads together with a resounding THUNK.

            Thorin fell back onto the pillows, clutching his head with both hands and swearing loudly.  “BLEEDING CHRIST THAT FUCKING HURT!” 

            Dylan on the other hand lost his balance and ended up flat on his arse, in a heap at the side of the hospital bed.  He shook his head like a horse trying to avoid flies, but despite the bright red circle in the middle of his forehead, he appeared to be okay to Thorin.

            Appeared being the optimal word.

            “What the fuck is wrong with you, Dylan?” Thorin bellowed at his friend.

            A few more flicks of the head and then his eyes seemed to focus on Thorin in the bed clearly.  “Not, Dylan.  Dwalin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bugger about – fool around or waste time  
> Stone – English measure of weight (1 stone = 14 pounds)


	3. Frienemies

 

* * *

 

            Thorin charmed the nurse into leaving two pain pills with a promise that he would take them ‘in a minute,’ then promptly shared them with Dwalin.  So a couple of pain pills, one freaked out declaration, a brief exclamation of “What the hell is going on?!” and Thorin and Dwalin had settled into a comfortable silence as they both contemplated the last question.

            “So,” Thorin said, the pain in his head slowly ebbing away.  “What do you remember?”

            “Well,” Dwalin said, turning the question over slowly.  “I remember you dying.”

            “Yeah, thanks for that.”

            “I remember the dragon, Erebor, the quest, trolls, bleeding Elves, the battle, and, uhm –”  Dwalin wore a hesitant look in his face.

            “Don’t.  Don’t say his name.”

            “What’s wrong with Ori?”

            Thorin sighed.  “Nothing.  I just thought you were gonna – say someone else.”

            “What?  You mean, Bilbo?”

            Thorin’s face scrunched up like he was pushing a baby rhino out of his ass.  “Why the fuck did you just say his name?!”  Bilbo had been front and center of his thoughts as soon as everything had started to clear up.  Part of him was desperate to see him, find him, but part of him feared – was he even here?

            As if he had read Thorin’s mind, Dwalin asked, “Do you think they’re even here?”

            Thorin turned the question over.  He didn’t want to say he had doubts, but he would be lying if he didn’t say he had them in the first place.  “I think they are.  I wanna say – I wanna say, Bilbo is.”  There, he said it out loud and frankly, he did believe it despite warnings that he should not get his hopes up.  It was just a feeling.  Something inside him just said, _If I’m here, he’s gotta be here too!  That would just be fucked up if he isn’t._

“What about Ori?”

            Dwalin didn’t make a sound or move, but like Thorin he appeared to turn it over in his head.  “Yeah.  He’s here.  I can’t say how, but it’s justa feeling.”

            Thorin knew what he meant.  There was something inside of him saying Bilbo was near, that he was with him, in this life, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out where. 

            No, that wasn’t true either really.  Thorin was pretty damn sure Bilbo was at school. 

            “Holy shit!”  Dwalin exclaimed.  He stood stock still and his wide-eyed stare was almost scary.

            “What?  What it is?”  Thorin feared Dwalin was having a stroke or something.

            “You don’t think –”

            “Think what?!”

            “Ori and Bilbo – you don’t suppose –”

            “Fucking just say it!  What?!”

            “Owen and William.”

            Jesus H. Christ.  “No.  No, it couldn’t be.  Mahal wouldn’t be _that_ cruel!”

            Dwalin and Thorin just looked at each other, their minds racing and not wanting to believe, but there was the tiniest spark.

            In chorus they both spoke as one.  “They hate us!”


	4. Longing

 

* * *

 

            Thorin was released the next day with a clean bill of health, no concussion, but told to rest.  _Yeah, right!_ Immediately Dwalin was invited to stay the weekend, with the idea that at least someone would be with him all the time. 

            Amazingly, his parents bought it.

            They contemplated and thought about their next move.  As much as they didn’t want to think on it or really believe it, the more they talked it over, the more it made sense that their Ones, their Soulmates, where none other than Will and Owen – the two people the least likely to be responsive to this whole crazy thing.

            Back when they were just kids in primary, the four of them had been the best of friends.  Will and Owen were the brains while Tom and Dylan were the brawn.  They got up to all kinds of mischief and little adventures.  And somehow, it was always Will who got them out of trouble.  He would bullshit and flash his amber-colored eyes and adults would just fall over.  Owen always had the answer to problems – he was like a walking encyclopedia.  Tom and Dylan made sure that the other kids didn’t pick on Will and Owen – Dylan was kind of a beast even then.  Tom on the other hand – he was the leader.  He charted the course, the other three were support.  It was great.

            Then they grew up.

            Hitting secondary school, Tom and Dylan grew into massive, animal-like guys.  They were the first to have to shave, they had the height and the good looks – even Dylan who ended up being a tad scarred from acne, he had the presence and Tom had the looks, that smile and the deep blue eyes that could lead a blind man to buy a mirror.  Yeah, all the girls wanted them and all the guys wanted to be them, or at least their friends.

            And that’s when the end came.

            Will and Owen grew too.  But where Tom and Dylan were hot, Will and Owen were ‘cute’, smart, funny, but not the least bit popular.  Oh, they had their own crowd with the science, math and literature groups, but nothing like Tom and Dylan with the sports, and popular rich kids.  It was only a matter of time before Tom and Dylan’s new-found ‘friends’ replaced the old gang of four.  In fact, Will and Owen were more and more viewed as liabilities, at least according to Tom and Dylan’s dads.  So it was that Tom and Dylan turned on them and laughed along with all their other popular friends.  Very quickly there was rift and the friendships that seemed so sure were gone. 

            Finally, once reaching sixth-form college, there was a longstanding, unstated truce.  All four former friends just ignored each other, going about their lives and in their minds, they had turned their former friends into bitter enemies.  Something not worthy of mention, let alone admitting that they ever knew each other.

            So, now that Tom and Dylan were Thorin and Dwalin – how the hell would they awaken the memories of Will’s and Owen’s past lives?  Not to mention past loves.

            Dwalin of course had a real bright idea.  “Maybe if we head-butt them like we did, it will jog their memories?!”

            Thorin looked at Dwalin with a blank expression and fought down the urge to punch him in the face.  “Sure.  That’ll go over real well.  ‘ _Hey guys, we’ve been enemies since secondary school, but we think you are our reincarnated lovers, so just sit back and let us brain you both.’_   Smooth, Dwalin.”

            “Well, you bleeding think of something then, Einstein!”  Dwalin sat down with a huff, a scowl on his face.  “Because to be fucking honest, I’m getting really worked up for Ori right now!”

            “That’s good – why not just bend him over a table in the library?  That should jog something, all right.”  Thorin let out a deep laugh that made Dwalin blush crimson.

            “Don’t act like you and Will didn’t mess about!”

            “What?”

            “Owen told me you two used to play doctor by yourselves!”

            Thorin thought he was going to choke.  He had never told anyone that and as far as he was concerned, neither had Will.  Well, he didn’t think he had.

            “How did Owen find out?”

            “He got Will to talk.”

            “How?!”  Suddenly, Thorin was pissed that Will would share that – regardless of the fact that it was when they were ten.

            Dwalin rolled his eyes.  “Easy.  Owen told Will that he and I would – you know – play together too.”  He looked away; he looked at anything but directly at Thorin’s gaze.

            Thorin almost busted a gut.  “Seriously?!  You played doctor with Owen?!”  He really wasn’t surprised.  Those two were always a pair, like Will and himself.

            “We didn’t play doctor,” Dwalin continued, still avoiding Thorin’s eyes.  “We used to play – other things.”  When Dwalin chanced a look at Thorin, he saw his friend giving him an amused but questioning look.  “Fine.  We used to play house, okay!”

            Thorin was going to pee.  “Oh. My. FUCKING.  God!  _House?!_  I guess I don’t have to wonder who played the ‘the daddy.’”

            “Sod off!” Dwalin said, jumping up and moving to gaze out the window.

            So many emotions ripped at him, that Dwalin wasn’t sure what he would do.  In the last life, he never really told Ori anything.  He told Thorin on the quest that he had feelings, but they both agreed they wouldn’t tell their Ones until after it was all over.  After the horror of the Arkenstone with Thorin and Bilbo, Dwalin never did tell Ori how he felt.  He finally just came to realize that Ori didn’t feel the same way.  Then Ori ended up following Balin and Oin to Khazad-dûm.  It was only when Gimli came home from the War of The Ring and said that Ori was gone, he had died alone in Moria, that Dwalin died inside.  He was never the same again.  Even the loss of his brother didn’t leave the hole in his heart they way Ori’s death did.

            And now, in this life, if Dwalin were honest, he would admit that as Dylan, he missed being with Owen.  Over the last few years, a big part of him actually longed for the guy, but he knew that his actions were unforgivable and that he had lost any chance with the one person who had a hold on his heart since they were six years old.  And really, he wanted to believe that this whole reincarnation thing was true because, as Mahal was his witness, he would do anything, _anything_ , to just hold Ori.

            Thorin’s amusement was gone now.  He had expected a telling off, no big deal.  But he hadn’t expected the hurt he saw in his friend’s eyes.  And frankly, he knew, or thought he did, what was bugging him. 

            Not for the first time that weekend, he thought that even if he got his Bilbo back, would the memories of Tom and Will be too much to overcome?   It was one thing on the quest to be at odds those first few months, and even the incident with – that _thing –_ they had gotten past it and forgiven.  But this was years – years of teasing – hell, abuse really.  It might all be too much in the end.

            Finally, Thorin stood up and went to stand next to Dwalin.  He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder for comfort, and surprisingly, Dwalin didn’t move away, but turned and gave Thorin a hug – like he was a drowning man and he was going under.

            “I miss him, so much.” Dwalin whispered, his voice thick.  “I faced Orcs and Goblins and cut down more enemies than I can count, but I was never brave enough to tell him that I loved him.”

            Thorin indeed knew exactly what he was feeling.  “So, come Monday morning, what’s our plan?”


	5. The Other Two

 

* * *

 

            “I can’t bloody believe _this_ isyour plan!” Thorin whispered angrily. 

            Currently they were behind a stack in the library.  The two burly teens were sandwiched in the small aisle looking through the stacks, observing Will and Owen studying at nearby table. 

            “What’s your idea then?” Dwalin hissed in reply.  “You said we should watch for a chance to chat them up.  Well, here we are – watching.”

            Thorin and Dwalin looked again to make sure that they hadn’t been spotted.

            Personally, while Thorin thought it was a stupid idea, he was glad to finally be close to Will.  Ever since Dwalin brought him up, Thorin couldn’t think of anything _but_ his Will. 

            Thorin could still remember the day they met in primary.  Will had just moved to the area but walked in to class like he owned the place.  Tom had been completely taken by the fellow six-year-old with honey-colored curls and amber eyes.  In fact, he fell so fast, so quick, that he was in the middle of playing dodge ball and just stood there gaping at the new kid until he got smacked in the head with the ball.  When he came around, Dylan was there and a couple of other people, but so was the new kid and he asked if he was okay – to which Tom was completely unable to answer.

            It was that the next day, they met Owen. 

            Owen was the kid no one looked at.  Always picked last, crap at games, never said anything unless asked.  But the day after Will showed up, a few bigger boys decided to use Owen as a toss toy during recess and Will wouldn’t have any of that.  Of course, Will was just as little as Owen and the two of them clearly outmatched by the bullies.

            Enter the knights in shining armor, stage right.

            One of the bullies pushed Will down and that was all it took for Tom to rush to his defense, roaring like a little bear, Dylan hot on his heels.  After they took care of the bullies, they thought for sure that the teacher would skin them.  But Will totally took charge and charmed them all out of trouble. 

            From then on Tom, William, Dylan and Owen were the best of friends.  Seats were saved, lunches were shared, studying was done together and sleepovers of course. 

            Oh the sleepovers; there were fond memories of those too.  Will’s house was huge and Donna, being a single mum, loved having “the gang” over.  She even set up the old master bedroom as the sleepover room.  The walls were painted with trees so it felt like a forest and she had painted stars in glow-in-the-dark paint so that when they lights went out, the ceiling was a mass of constellations.  They would watch Disney films and act them out or even make up their own.  Sometimes, Donna would tell them bedtime stories that she made up herself and she would dress up.  They had sleepovers at each of their houses, but Will’s was the best.  

            In fact, it was at one of the sleepovers that Tom and Will had their first kiss.  They were at Tom’s house and he had snuck up a scary movie for them to watch.  Dylan of course protected Owen through the whole thing, but Will bravely watched with Tom.  It was only later that Tom woke in the night to hear Will sniffling nearby because of nightmares.  Tom moved over and drew Will to him and told him that he would protect him from any bad men or monsters and then he kissed him.  Will was so taken aback but Tom told him that his mom would give him a kiss when he was scared so he hoped that would help make him feel better.  Will got a little smile and said it did and then he kissed Tom back and told him he was the bravest person in the world.  Tom had never felt so good in his life. 

            It was only years later, when the rift was quite wide between them that Tom remembered that night and realized he had broken something that he should have treasured instead.  Part of his anger with Will all these years was due to the anger he felt for himself.

            “What are they doing now?” Thorin whispered.

            “Still just sitting there, reading and taking notes it looks like,” Dwalin answered.  “Well, keep it down,” Thorin urged.  “We don’t want a repeat of the Laketown incident.”

            Neither Thorin or Dwalin had confessed anything to Bilbo or Ori during the quest but they both had confessed to each other.  Bilbo headed off to the city archives one night to read up on the history of Erebor and anything he could find on dragons, while Ori tagged along to do his own research of the Dwarf kingdom.

            Since neither had told anyone what they were doing, Thorin and Dwalin got suspicious and worried.  Well, all right, they were jealous and wanted to know what Bilbo and Ori were doing.  They followed him, or as Bilbo said later when he and Ori caught them, ‘to sneak around like a couple of Dwarrow-lings and spy on us!’ which they had a very hard time defending. 

            “What are they doing now?”  he whispered to Dwalin.

            “Watching two pricks make arses of themselves,” a voice behind them said flatly.

            Thorin and Dwalin whipped around to find Will and Owen standing behind them in the aisle.  Apparently they _had_ noticed and snuck up the back of the stacks to catch them.

            Thorin’s heart ached a bit.  William was so cute.  A head shorter, creamy skin, honey-gold hair and those damn amber eyes that could see right though a bloke.  Even him standing there, looking thoroughly pissed, his arms folded across his chest, made him all that much more adorable in Thorin’s eyes.

            “Oh, hey,” Thorin said, trying to be casual.  “What’s up?”

            “That’s my question to you,” William spat back. “What are you two prats doing?”

            Thorin looked at Dwalin for assistance but got a wide-eyed, rabbit-in-the-headlights look in response.  So he grabbed a random book off the shelf and flipped it open.  “Just looking for a book for class.”  _Good one, that’ll work._

            Will let his eyes roam over the books before turning back with a shit-eating grin on his face.  “A book for class?”  Will raised an eyebrow just a tad.  “Since when have you two started taking Gender Studies?”

            _Ah, bugger!  Well, it had been a great idea._   Thorin couldn’t think of anything at that point but tried to stammer out something, which only came out as a babble of sounds.

            “Right,” Will said, rolling his eyes.  “Come on, Owen.  Let’s go.”

            The two squeezed past Thorin and Dwalin and for the briefest of moments, Thorin had Will rubbing against him; he thought he would pop a stiffy right there!  He just closed his eyes and tried to think of unpleasant things. 

            Dwalin was going through the same thing but instead of closing his yes, he looked down at Owen and for a second, their eyes met and he gave Owen a wink that brought a blush to the smaller guy.  Dwalin could almost feel the most lecherous thoughts bubble up in his brain, but he embraced them gladly!  Owen was still lovely to him, all green-eyed and smooth skin and his light brown hair with the strains of copper.  It was all Dwalin could do to not grab him and have him right there.

            “Fuck!” Thorin hissed as Will and Owen were out of earshot.  “Bloody brilliant!”

            “Coulda been worse,” Dwalin said with a shrug.

            “ _How_?” Thorin was incredulous.

            “He coulda slapped ya.” Dwalin answered, offhandedly.  Thorin couldn’t necessarily argue that point.  Will always did have more strength than many gave him credit for.

            The both looked over at where the boys had been and saw the table was empty, only just noticing the two guys walking out the library doors.  Neither said anything but took off after them.

            Once outside they tried again.

            “Oi!” Thorin called out.  “Will!  Wait up!”

            Will and Owen turned around.  Will leveled a narrow steely gaze at the two footballers before settling on Thorin.  “What do you want?”

            Owen glanced from Thorin to Dwalin, his face unreadable but clear reservation in his eyes.  Guilt snaked up in Dwalin’s stomach as he stared back, his earlier cheekiness evaporating in Owen’s look.

            Thorin shuffled a bit before answering Will’s question.  “We just thought we could – you know – catch up.  Chat.”

            Will barked out a laugh.  “Catch up?  What’s to catch up?”  Will was not pleased at all.  “And the last time we _chatted_ was two years ago when we walked past you blokes and those toilet-trained gorillas you call a rugby team, and you two insulted us for the amusement of your friends.”

            Thorin and Dwalin exchanged quick looks.  Yeah, they remembered that incident and it made them squirm on the inside.  But Thorin was going to try charm and see if that didn’t work.

            “Well, it was just cheek,” Thorin said, trying to give a slick smile but didn’t know it came across as a smirk.  “You know, just a bit of fun.”

            Thorin reached out and his intent was to place a hand on Will’s shoulder, a simple touch to show he was sincere.  But he just didn’t count on his hand having a mind of its own and he was looking into those eyes that he wanted to drown in and before he realized what was happening, his fingers ghosted over Will’s chest, right over a nipple.

            There was a resounding _CRACK_ , as Will’s open palm met Thorin’s cheek, whipping his face to one side with such force that Thorin had to reach out and steady himself against Dwalin or else fall over.

            “Hands off!” Will sneered before turning to Owen.  “I’ll call you later.”

            Owen looked stunned at the whole display but nodded acknowledgement, then both he and Will turned and walked off in opposite directions.

            Dwalin just looked at Thorin until he recovered.  “Smooth,” he said dryly, looking at the blossoming welt in the shape of Will’s hand on Thorin’s face, then took off after Owen.

            Thorin rubbed his sore cheek.  “No doubt about it.  That’s Bilbo.”


	6. My Life To Defend You

 

* * *

 

            _Where the bloody hell did he disappear to so quick?_

            Dwalin was a full head and a half taller than most kids in school but with so many milling about, he couldn’t see where Owen had gone off to.  He knew he made a left but after that, he was lost in the crowd.  Swiveling his head back and forth, he was almost ready to backtrack and look again when he suddenly caught sight of Owen’s cardigan down one hallway.

            He quickly made a right.  He finally came up behind Owen as he was just closing his locker.

            “Oi, Owen,” Dwalin said.  He tried to be gentle but it still sounded gruff in his gravel-like voice.  “Hold up.”

            Owen turned but his face showed nothing but apprehension and he hugged his books tight to his chest.  It was almost painful for Dwalin to see him basically shield himself.   Once again, guilt swam in his stomach.

            “What do you want?” Owen asked.  It wasn’t the accusation that Will had spat out earlier, but rather full of trepidation.

            “Just to talk,” Dwalin said, quietly.  He was trying his damnedest to be gentle, but he wasn’t sure if it was working.  Owen was not moving and only stared back at Dwalin like he was ready to flee if needed.  It was one more painful reminder at how far they had drifted apart.

            “I’m not sure we have anything to talk about.”

            “Sure we do.  What about you and me?”

            “What about you and me?  There is no ‘you and me.’”

            “There could be if we talked.”

            Owen huffed out a hollow laugh.  “You know, I used to dream about us talking.”  He gave a pointed look to Dwalin that was marked with pain.  “But I realized that was a fantasy.  You wanted to be with the cool crowd, you wanted to be seen as some big shot and there was no room for scum like me.”

            ”I never thought you were scum.” Dwalin’s heart was sinking and fast.

            “You certainly treated me that way.”

            “I didn’t mean –”

            “You hurt me.”  Owen’s voice was almost a whisper but it rang loud in Dwalin’s ears.  Owen’s eyes began to shimmer with tears.  “And I don’t know if I can trust you.”

            Dwalin’s heart was breaking, he felt sick to his stomach.  Christ, this was so hard, but he knew, deep down, he knew, as much as Owen was Ori, as much as this beautiful being in front of him was his One, he knew he deserved this punishment for the wounds he had inflicted on the one person he should never have hurt in the first place.

            Owen looked away, his tears finally doing a slow roll down his cheeks.  Dwalin was just about to reach out and wipe them away when a loud voice interrupted.

            “Oi, Dyl!”  It was Rhys, one of the Flankers from the team.  “What’s all this then?  Got yourself a little tosser, do you?”  His laugh was cruel and he leered at Owen in a way that made Dwalin’s blood boil.

            “Sod off, Rhys.”  Dwalin said

            “Now, keep your shirt on,” Rhys laughed again and was clearly in the mood to push someone like Owen around.  “Looks like there’s plenty to go around.”

            Owen stared at Dwalin and then at Rhys and it was obvious that he was scared and the look on his face stated that he had expected this to happen.  He tried to recoil against the locker as Rhys took a step closer but that only egged on Rhys even more.

            “What’s the matter, wanker – scared?”  Rhys was enjoying this and just as Dwalin was about to do something, Rhys made the one mistake that pushed Dwalin’s last nerve.  Rhys reached out and poked Owen in the head, hard enough to send it knocking into the metal locker that Owen was leaning against.  Owen’s books clattered to the floor and Dwalin’s rage boiled over.

            It would have been comical at any other time to see Rhys’ eyes bug out like a squeeze toy, but with Dwalin’s vise-like hand tightening around his neck, no one was laughing.

            “Nê zu tûmûb hi gagin zatamarad zu!”  Dwalin growled in Khuz-dul. 

            Dwalin sent Rhys flying across the hall to slam into the lockers on the other side.  Dwalin stepped forward, took up a defensive position; both fists raised to chest level and effectively placed himself in front of Owen.  The look on his face made any who would challenge him, pause.  Rhys didn’t take that challenge, nor did he wait around, he scrambled up and ran, much to the amusement and cheers of many around them.  Dwalin turned around to find Owen staring wide-eyed into space.

            “You okay?”  Dwalin asked but there was no response.  “You okay?”  He asked again when his love hadn’t moved a muscle.

            Finally, Ori blinked and gave a little shake of his head and looked up at Dwalin, before saying, “Zu uzayung.”

            Dwalin froze but a smile slowly formed on his face.  He replied in Khuz-dul, “Umanith khajimâl furkh mahmurukh zu.”

            A wide grin graced Ori’s face.  “Dwalin, baraz amagur.”  He slid his arms around Dwalin’s waist and pressed a cheek to his chest.

            Dwalin returned the hug, laying his own cheek on the top of Ori’s head, his own tears falling.  “Ori, sanâzyung.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baraz amagur – (my) red bear  
> nê zu tûmûb hi gagin zatamarad zu – if you touch him again (I’ll) kill you  
> sanâzyung – perfect (true/pure) love = (a Dwarf’s ‘One’)  
> umanith khajimâl furkh mahmurukh zu – cheerfully (gladly) give my life to defend you  
> zu uzayung – you (are) the greatest warrior


	7. Stubbornness of Hobbits

 

* * *

 

            “Hey!” Thorin called after Will.  “Hey, Will!  Wait!”

            Will didn’t stop, just continued walking towards the car park.  “What?”

            “Seriously,” Thorin said, coming up beside Will.  “I just want to talk with you.”

            “And why should I bother?”

            “Because we were friends once.”

            “Long ago.  And that’s over now.”

            “Does it have to be?”

            Will rounded on Thorin.  “What? Over?  You made that choice, Tom!  Not me!”

            “What if I made the wrong choice?”

            “Well, now, that’s the problem with choices – there’s always a price to be paid.  You can’t have your cake and eat it too!”

            “You’re right.” 

            Will just stood there, his face unreadable. 

            Thorin decided to press on.  “I made the wrong choices.  I chose the wrong friends.  I made the wrong decisions.”

            Will didn’t move but his eyes softened a bit.

            “I just wish,” Thorin said, as gently as possible. “You’d give me another chance.”

            Will looked down at his feet.  He didn’t say anything but Thorin could tell the wheels were turning.  After several long minutes, Will looked up and his expression was hard and steely.  “Well, why don’t you wish in one hand and shit in the other.  Let me know which one fills up first.”

            Will turned and started for his car.

            “I’m sorry!”  Thorin shouted.  “Will, I’m sorry!  Please!”

            Thorin thought Will slowed but he didn’t turn, just got in his car and left.

            Thorin could only stand there and watch.  It was all true.  He had made the wrong choices, the wrong decisions, just as he had before, but unlike the Arkenstone, there wasn’t going to be any quick forgiveness, no absolution.  He was at a loss, and if he were to be honest with himself – he deserved it.

            It was then that his phone chirped.  Pulling it out of his back pocket, he saw he had a text from Dwalin.

 

            Dwalin: Ori’s on board.  Any luck w Bilbo?

**_Thorin: No luck.  Worse than before._ **

            Dwalin: Meet us @ library

**_Thorin_ : _K_ **

           

            Thorin walked back the way he came and saw Dwalin standing there, his hand in Ori’s.

            “Welcome back,” Thorin said, giving a half-smile to Ori.

            “Thanks,” Ori returned Thorin’s smile with a shy one of his own then laid his head on Dwalin’s shoulder.

            “So,” Dwalin said.  “What’s your plan?”

            “I’m not sure,” Thorin said with a sigh.  “He was pretty hostile – not that I blame him – but I don’t how to reach him.”

            “Look,” Ori said, “why not come over to my house?  My parents are gone for the week – we can just hang out and figure out your next move.”

            Dwalin agreed but Thorin wasn’t so sure.  He felt like being alone.  How did it come to this?  Once again, history was repeating itself in many ways.  On the quest for Erebor, he had pushed Bilbo away, insulted him, underestimated his worth, and almost lost him before seeing his true merit.  In this life, he had pushed him away, insulted him, took him for granted and now that he saw him for what he was, he couldn’t get the time of day out of him. 

            Oh yeah, sulking would be such a great idea at this point.

            In the end though, Thorin agreed and they headed to Ori’s to start the battle plans.  Operation Bilbo was about to commence.

 

 

* * *

            Will sat in his room, door locked, drapes closed and just a night light on – even at eighteen, he hated waking up in the middle of the night to pitch darkness.  But the dim light was also perfect for thinking.

            He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what Tom wanted.  He would never, ever admit it out loud but he so wanted to believe his ‘sorry’ and he almost, _almost,_ gave in to his request for chatting.  But he just couldn’t bring himself to forget all that had happened in the last six years.  Even now, thinking about it all was so painful – even though he pretended that he didn’t care and that it was no big deal, which were all lies of course.

            No, he wouldn’t give Thomas Durlin any such satisfaction – no how much he wanted.

            He phone chimed and picked it up – knowing full well who it was.

 

            Owen: Hiya

**_Will: Hiya You okay_ **

            Owen: Yah why you ask

**_**_Will:_** D followed you_ **

            Owen: How did you know

**_**_Will:_** T followed me didn’t see D with him figured he followed you_ **

            Owen: Clever boy LOL

**_**_Will:_** What did he want_ **

            Owen: Chat me up say he was sorry

**_**_Will:_** Yah I got the same speech - you didn’t listen did you_ **

There was no response for a couple of minutes.  William was sure he knew why.

 

**_**_Will:_** You made up didn’t you_ **

           

           There was still no response and the rest became clear.

 

**_**_Will:_** He’s there with you - Isn’t he_ **

           Owen: Yah

William cursed out loud.  He should have known.  Owen and Dylan were quite different from Tom and himself and frankly, he knew that Owen still had strong feelings for Dylan.

           

**_**_Will:_** It’s your life_ **

           Owen: He’s sincere - T is too I’m sure

**_**_Will:_** Bollocks - I won’t tell you who to be friends with - It’s your business_ **

           Owen: Will please listen

**_**_Will:_** Don’t drag me into this - Forgive them if you want I can’t_ **

Will stopped responding after that.  Owen sent several more texts before he actually tried calling but Will just switched his iPhone off. 

           He was angry with Owen.  He didn’t want to be and honestly, he wasn’t surprised he and Dylan made up.  And he knew it wasn’t his place to tell his best friend what to do, what friends to have or who to date.  But somehow, to return to Tom and Dylan felt like a betrayal and he had a hard time not feeling a slow boiling anger in the pit of his stomach.

He got up and padded into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.  His mom always swore it could cure anything and if it didn’t, you still had something tasty to drink.  As he sat at the table with his cup, he couldn’t help but think back on his time with Tom; he could almost taste a bitterness in his mouth that the tea could not take away.  He was determined not to give in, not be weak.  He would be strong and if he had to go it alone, then he would.  No matter how much he might want to give in and feel Tom kiss him once again.

           He was so determined and focused, that he didn’t even feel the single tear that slowly rolled down his cheek.

 

 

 


	8. Thine Own Advice

* * *

 

            “He’s still not answering, is he?” Thorin asked, dejected.  He rocked himself absentmindedly in Ori’s computer chair, his gaze on nothing in particular.

            Ori bit his lower lip for a moment.  “No.”

            Dwalin and Ori were sitting on the floor, leaning back against the side of Ori’s bed.  Dwalin had a lazy arm wrapped around Ori’s shoulders and Ori gladly leaned into the larger boy’s body.  To anyone else, it looked like the two of them had never been apart.

            “Look,” Ori continued a small smile on his face.  “He’s just – angry, right now.  We need to give him time.”

            “Bilbo was the same way,” Dwalin offered when Thorin didn’t respond to Ori’s statement. 

            “But that’s just bloody it!” Thorin thundered as he launched himself out of the chair and began to pace.  “He’s not bloody Bilbo, is he?!”

            “Not yet, no,” Dwalin said nodding his head.

            “Just how did you two remember?” Ori inquired.

            “I hit my head in Friday night’s game.” Thorin answered.

            “I hit my head,” Dwalin replied, “when Thorin and I head-butted each other in hospital.”

            Ori looked startled.  “You head-butted a guy in hospital?!”

            “Accidentally, of course!” Dwalin said defensively.

            “How do you _accidentally_ head-butt someone?”  Ori screwed up his face at the thought.

            As Dwalin went on to explain, Thorin continued to pace.  It was maddening.  He was so close and yet, his Bilbo was so far.  Why had it been so much ‘easier’ when he was king and they were on a dangerous trek across half of Arda?  What was it about Trolls, Goblins, Orcs and Wargs that made all that seem like a lark?   Of course, it helped that he could just turn to Bilbo and tell him, or play his harp, or –

            Wait a minute –

            “Ori,” Thorin said, unintentionally interrupting what promised to be a stellar snog between Dwalin and his One.  “Can I use your computer?”

 

* * *

 

            Will was on his third cup of tea when he heard the front door open.  He didn’t need to get up.

            “Sweetheart?”  His mother’s voice came from the front hall.

            “In the kitchen, mum.”  Will took a sip of his tea and waited. 

            Will felt his mum’s presence before her hand ran over his curly hair, attempting to straighten it out.  “How was school, darling?” she asked as she walked past, washed her hands in the sink and then reached for a clean mug in the dish rack.   

            “Okay.” Will tried to make it sound as casual as possible but he knew as soon as his mother turned around he had failed.

            “I hope that’s the last lie you’re going to tell me tonight.”

            “Mum!”

            Donna Baggs could tell the time by her son.  He arrived on time, he left on time, and he did the same things at the same time every day.  Surprises were not his favorite things in the world.  So it was clear she didn’t need to be a fortune teller to read her son like a book.  He was sitting in the kitchen, holding a cup of tea – she taught him that – and was clearly troubled.  He had a faraway look, he had drunk at least two bitter cups of tea – she could see two faint tea-stain rings on the inner rim, obviously he had let the tea steep too long causing the tea to become bitter and staining the cup – and judging from the way he was nursing the cup in his hand, he had been sitting in there for at least an hour. 

            “Believe me, you can’t fool your mum, so don’t try.”

            Silence.  Time for the questions.

            “Did you have a fight with Owen?”

            “No.  I didn’t fight with him.”

            “Ah.  But it has something to do with him.” A huffed sigh and an eye roll.

            “Does this have to do with school?”

            “Not really.”

            “So, not _the_ school, but something – or someone – at school.”

            Another huffed sigh, furrowed brow and his eyes closed.  Donna had what she needed.

            “So, it is someone at school, someone with a relation to Owen and it is someone that is causing you to get that pained look in your eyes and avoid looking at me. That leaves me with two answers.”

            Will just looked at Donna with wide eyes.

            “Thomas Durlin and Dylan Fundson.”

            Will chuckled and shook his head.  “You really should have your own psychic talk show or hotline.”

            “I am not psychic, love.  I just know my son.”

            Will drew a deep breath and slowly let it out.  He wasn’t sure where to start, but he knew she would figure it out anyway.  “Owen and I caught them spying on us in the library.  When we confronted them, they said they wanted to talk.”

            Donna gave her son a look that said to go on.

            “Anyway, they did the old, _divide-and-conquer_.  Tom came after me and Dylan went off after Owen.  They wanted to apologize for – past _transgressions._ ”

            “Ah.  So you didn’t have a fight with Owen – Owen did the one thing for Dylan that you couldn’t do for Tom.  He forgave.”

            “Seriously, mum, you need to get that psychic hotline going.  You’d make a ton.”

            Donna just laughed.  “I could have told you about those two when they were ten, although the signs were there when they were six.”

            “What do you mean?”  William as almost shocked.  How much did she know?  Christ, did she know about him and Tom?

            “I’m a mum – we mums know of these things.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out the gang of four was really a pair of twos.”  Donna gave her son a pointed look, along with a raised eyebrow that brought a blush to his face.  “When they were six, one could write it off as friends.  When they were eight, one could explain it as just puppy crush.  However, by the time there were ten/eleven, it was plain as day.  Owen couldn’t move about the place without Dylan’s eyes on him.  And Dylan couldn’t sit in a room without Owen making sure he sat right next to him.  No, my darling boy, I am not in the _least_ surprised that Owen and Dylan made up.”

            Will just sat there, stunned.  Of course, he knew how Owen felt about Dylan.  How many nights had Owen and he stayed awake, chatting or texting?  Will remembered Owen’s sixteenth birthday party and when the cake was brought, the candles blown out, Will had asked if Owen would tell him his wish.  Owen didn’t hesitate, “I wish for the same thing I have wished for since we were kids.”  Dylan – always Dylan, every year, every time.   Will also remembered the next day when Dylan walked past, only throwing Owen a sneer and Will had comforted Owen for an hour after school as his best friend cried buckets.

            Suddenly his anger at Owen evaporated.  He wasn’t sure, but if Owen was happy and Dylan truly was sincere, then who was he to stand in their way?

            “Now,” Donna said, bringing Will out of his thoughts.  “What about Tom?”

            “What about him?”  Will looked down at his now cold tea.

            “No forgiveness there.”

            “Why should I forgive him?!” Will stood up, grabbed his cup and went to the sink.  “He’s ignored me for two years now and treated me like shit before that!”

            “Watch your language.”

            “I’m sorry, but there really isn’t a polite word for it, mum.”  He was breathing hard now.  “He wanted another chance, said he made the wrong choices, the wrong decisions.  I told him that choices had consequences and well, this is one of them.”

            Donna gazed at her son, who was so clearly in pain and doubt.  She wanted to take it away from him, but knew this was one time she couldn’t.  He had to face this alone.  As much as she knew about Dylan and Owen, she was even more aware of Will and Tom.  Where Dylan and Owen were the epitome of opposite attraction, Will and Tom were a case of birds of a feather, a matched set.  Sure, to look at them was to see opposites, Tom was tall and dark while Will was small and light, but that’s where it ended.  They were yin and yang.  In many ways, Will and Tom mirrored herself and Will’s father, God rest his sweet soul.

            “You’re right, sweetie,” Donna said, getting up and placing her own cup in the sink.  “Every action has a reaction, every choice has a consequence.  I just want you to remember your own words when you make your decision.”

            “You think I should forgive him?”

            “I never said that.  Just bear in mind that hindsight is always twenty/twenty.  Every decision seems the right one at the time; it’s only later when we look back that decisions can be seen as mistakes.  I would hate for you to pass up this opportunity only to find that it doesn’t ever come again.”  She gave him a kiss on the cheek and went off to change out of her work clothes.

            Will just stood there and thought it over.  _He says he wants to talk, then maybe I should just listen._

            Will walked back to his room and turned his iPhone back on.  As soon as it connected, all the texts from Owen came through along with the missed calls. But as he was putting the phone down, it made its characteristic chime; new email.  Will’s eyes widened as he opened his inbox.

            There was an email for him.  From Tom.

 

 

 


	9. Contact

* * *

 

            Will just stared at the email.  He didn’t really have to guess how Tom got his email address – not that he really cared.  In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to even read it yet.  He hit the home button and went to throw the phone down on his bed again, when something else caught his eye.

            There was a notification on his Facebook App.  He knew – he just knew before he clicked on it what it would show.  And sure as getting wet on a rainy day, there was the friend request, from Tom Durlin. 

            Fine.

            Will clicked back over to his email and now saw that there were additional emails.  These informed him that a Tom Durlin was now following him on both his Twitter and Tumblr accounts.  He would have to hand it to him, the guy was persistent.

            Will stood unmoving, mind whirling like clockwork.  _Fine, I’ll read his damn email._ He opened the email and found, not a letter or more apologies but something far more … intimate.

 

 

* * *

            **From:** Tom Durlin

            **To:** William Baggs

            **Wm Shakespeare: Sonnet 18**

            Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
            Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
            Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
            And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  
            Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
            And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  
            And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
            By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;  
            But thy eternal summer shall not fade  
            Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;  
            Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
            When in eternal lines to time thou growest:  
            So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
            So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

 

            Sincerely, Tom

 

 

* * *

            He was adamant that he wouldn’t fall for this.  _Comparing me to summer’s day, indeed.  Bollocks!  Thinks he can turn my head with talk of beauty and immortality and all that rot!_ He laughed.  _Ha, ha_.  He was not amused.

            Well, no.  He was amused actually. 

            He actively ignored the fact that he read the email several times in a row. But then that was just to get the meaning clear, of course.

            That’s all.  Nothing else. 

            Nope, not swayed at all.

            He threw the iPhone on the bed, furthest from him and sat with his back to it and his arms folded across his chest.  He glared straight ahead at nothing really, and pointedly ignored the phone.  He got up and cleaned up his room, got out his studies and set to work.  It was only after ruining his literature essay twice, because he continued to interject lines from the sonnet into the paper, that he gave up and reached for the phone to read it again. 

            No.  He was not giving in at all.  He just happened to really like Shakespeare. 

            That’s all, thank you very much!

            _Right._

 

 

* * *

            Will had a terrible night.  He continued to dream of a bloody battle.  Tom was a warrior king, brave and fearless with a shining blade.  Will tried to save him but it was useless, he only had a small sword and no strength to change the outcome.  He watched as the king fell and eventually saw himself at the king’s side, crying as Tom lay dying. 

            Finally, he just got up early, showered, ate and got ready for school.  Then he checked his emails – Tom had sent another in the middle of the night.

 

 

* * *

**From:** Tom Durlin

            **To:** William Baggs

            **Wm Shakespeare: Sonnet 46**

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war  
            How to divide the conquest of thy sight;  
            Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,  
            My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.  
            My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie --  
            A closet never pierced with crystal eyes --  
            But the defendant doth that plea deny  
            And says in him thy fair appearance lies.  
            To 'cide this title is impanneled  
            A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,  
            And by their verdict is determined  
            The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part:  
            As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part,  
            And my heart's right thy inward love of heart.

 

            Yours, Tom

 

 

* * *

            _Damn him._

            Really, Will was going to have to have a talk with Owen – because he didn’t recall telling Tom that he liked poetry, and in particular Shakespeare’s sonnets.  That didn’t stop him from rereading the emails a few times before getting in the car, nor did it stop him from reading them at each traffic light.

            When he finally pulled into the car park, he could see Owen and Dylan over to one side, standing very close and clearly chatting in the most intimate way.  He was actually kind of jealous.  They looked so happy, and honestly, Dylan looked happier than he had ever seen him.  He looked away as the two of them brought their lips together.  By the time he looked up, Owen was watching Dylan walk away and obviously standing there waiting for Will to show up.

            “Hiya,” Will said, as he got close to Owen.

            “Hullo,” Ori said, giving his friend a sheepish smile.  “About yesterday, I’m –”

            “No,” Will said, holding up a hand.  “I need to be the one to apologize for yesterday.  It was childish and churlish for me to just switch my phone off.  I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay.  You were angry.  I told Thor – I mean, Tom that it just came out of the blue for you and you needed time.”

            “Did you also mention that I liked Shakespeare?”  A wry smile played on Will’s face.

            “No.”

            “You didn’t?” Will was surprised.  “Honestly?”

            “No.  Why?”

            _So, Tom actually hit upon that on his own?  “_ Nothing.  Not important.”  Will gave his friend a smile.  “We better get going.”  They started to head out of the car park when they were both grabbed and spun a round.

            “I owe you a beating.” It was Rhys, who had murder in his eyes for Owen.

            “Sod off!” Will spat out at the footballer, as he pulled Owen out of Rhys’ grip and stood between them. 

             “Oi,” Rhys grabbed the front of Will’s shirt.  “Looks like someone else needs a busted mouth!”  Rhys made a meaty fist with his other hand, cocked it back and pulled Will closer to better insure his fist met with Will’s face.

 

 

 


	10. Devotion

* * *

 

            Blood was rushing in Will’s ears, making them buzz and in the end he couldn’t hear anything.  Not his own gasp as Rhys pulled his fist back, Owen’s shout of “NO!”, not even the shouts of other students who were nearby.  And for all his fear, he couldn’t tear his eyes form Rhys’ fist. 

            The world was in slow motion and just as the hammer-like first started to move, there was a blur of movement and Rhys was spun around and punched square in the face.

            When his hearing came back and his mind cleared, Will realized that Tom was standing over Rhys, but Will couldn’t understand what was being said.

            “Hakhakh shekel!” Tom bellowed at Rhys, who was still lying on the ground holding his bleeding nose.

            “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rhys yelled back at Tom.

            “Karakik zu bund nê zu tûmûb hi gagin!” Tom replied.

           By this time a couple of teachers had come over and they were holding back Tom and hauling Rhys up onto his feet.  The Flanker gave them a bit of a struggle but calmed once he realized that it was futile.

           “Are you okay?” One of the teachers asked Will.

           “Yeah.  We’re fine.”

          Owen launched into a quick explanation and included yesterday’s incident with Rhys.  Will remained quiet and only answered questions when asked.  He was watching Tom, who in turn only glanced at him a few times but looked away quickly.  Both Rhys and Tom were led away.

          “Are you okay?” Will asked.

          “Yeah.  Are you?” 

          “I’m fine really.”

          “Good thing Thor-Tom showed up when he did.”

          “Yeah, right.”  Will wasn’t sure what to say.  “I need to get to class.  I’ll talk to you later.”

 

* * *

 

            “So,” Dwalin said, as they walked to Ori’s house.  “Did it work, do you think?”

            “No,” Thorin replied, resigned.  “Nothing.”

            “I told you both,” Ori said, “Bilbo never learned Khuz-dul!  It only worked for me because I knew in our past life.”

            “I say it was you banging your head,” Dwalin remarked.

            “And I told you,” Ori countered, “that I didn’t feel any change until after you had spoken Khuz-dul a couple of times.  It had nothing to do with my head.”

            “Well, I still think it’s related to pain or knocking your head,” Dwalin said with a shrug.

            “You would, my love,” Ori snarked back, but with a gentle smile.

            “I am just going to continue my courting and see where we get.” Thorin said.  “I will try to think of more things, and I hope I can get him alone to chat soon as well.”

            “What are you doing next?” Dwalin narrowed his gaze when he looked Thorin.

            “Already taken care of.” Thorin hoped it would get a bit more reaction than his poems.

 

* * *

           

            Will had been distracted all day after this morning’s run-in.  He basically sleepwalked through all his classes and first time that anyone could remember, he didn’t raise his hand, shout out an answer or comment during any of his classes.  He wasn’t sure what to make of this whole Tom thing.

            In last than forty-eight hours, he had gone from bitter former friends/enemies to being showered with attention.  Apologies, wishes to start again, two poems, and then a rush to defend – the like of which hadn’t been seen since they were all in primary school.

He wanted to talk to Owen about it all, but he figured that might not be the best – it would only get back to Tom.  Of course he could ask to keep it between them, but it seemed unfair to put Owen in that position. 

            No best, to keep it to himself.  Well, maybe his mum too.

            By the time Will walked in the door, he thought he would let it go for now.  No more thoughts of Tom or anything else.  He had checked his phone enough for emails, checked his Facebook app enough for messages, no texts either.  Just as well.  He would take the night for himself and screw everything else. 

            “Mum?!” 

            “In the kitchen,” Donna yelled in response.

            The kitchen, they always seemed to end up there.

            “What’s for din—” Will stopped at the doorway.  There was a large, beautiful potted violet plant on the table.  The pot was plain but there was a huge purple bow tied around it.  “What’s the occasion?”

            “You tell me,” Donna said, not looking away from stirring a pot on the stove that smelled like stew.

            “Why me?”

            Now she turned a lazy gaze at her son and bestowed him with a sly smile.  “Because the delivery man said they were for you.”  She almost burst out laughing at the bug-eyed, drop-jawed expression on his face.  “There’s a card.”

            Will launched himself at the plant and found the small, square unopened envelope.  The tiny card only had one letter on the inside, “T.”  He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.  _So much for not thinking about him at all tonight._

            “Any new emails today?”  Donna asked, again not looking directly at her son.

            “You’re doing it again,” Will said, shaking his head.  “That whole Psychic Friends Network thing.”

            That made her laugh out loud.  “Every time I turned around this morning, you were reading something on your phone.  Judging form the soppy smile on your face, it had to be good, and since your phone wasn’t chiming it was something you were rereading and from the length of time it took you to reread it, I’m guessing it was an email.  Am I correct?”

            “Oh my God!”  Will just threw his hands up.  “Clearly my mum is an alien mind-reader and I am never going to be able to keep anything private or have any secrets!”

            Throughout dinner, Will barely heard what his mum was saying half the time.  He kept glancing at the beautiful violet plant.  The flowers were a lovely shade of pale lavender with white throats.  Purple was a favorite color of his, any shade; but then Tom knew that already.  _At least he used to_ , Will told himself.

            Afterwards, Will said he should take the plant and place it in the small conservatory in the back.  However, when he picked it up to carry it, somehow, _somehow,_ it ended up in his room, on the table in front of the window.  He sat there looking at it and thinking that he really should at least send a thank you card or note or even an email. 

            Yes, he should.

            It was right then that his phone made its chime and sure enough there was a new email from Tom.

 

 

* * *

            **From:** Tom Durlin

            **To:** William Baggs

 **A Special World, by** **_\- Sheelagh Lennon –_ **

  
            A special world for you and me  
            A special bond one cannot see  
            It wraps us up in its cocoon  
            And holds us fiercely in its womb.  
  
            Its fingers spread like fine spun gold  
            Gently nestling us to the fold  
            Like silken thread it holds us fast  
            Bonds like this are meant to last.  
  
            And though at times a thread may break  
            A new one forms in its wake  
            To bind us closer and keep us strong  
            In a special world, where we belong.

 

 

 

* * *

            Oh yeah, Will was in trouble now. 

            He decided to send a thank you.  He hit the reply button and simply typed in, “Thank you for the violet and the poems.”  He would leave it at that and see where it went.

            He didn’t have to wait long before there was a response.  Tom’s reply was even shorter, “Flowers have meanings.”  That drove Will to the computer and typed in “the meaning of flowers” in Google.

            The first thing to pop up was a definition of the word flower.  _Yeah, thanks.  Very helpful_.  But couple of places down was one that looked good so he clicked that.  Made a quick scroll down, looking for violet, and then came to a halt.

            Violet: _Devotion_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hakhakh shekel – the dog, one that is cowardly (Cowardly Dog)  
> Karakik zu bund nê zu tûmûb hi gagin – to break apart your head if you touch him again (I’ll bust your head if you touch him again)
> 
> I found out quite quickly that flowers can often have two, three or more meanings. I chose the meanings that best suited my story. Also, there are so many places to get the meaning of flowers and herbs and each one can be a little different so I just choose one website and left it at that.  
> Here is my source for the meaning of Flowers from here: http://www.almanac.com/content/meaning-flowers


	11. Count The Ways

* * *

 

            In movies and books, the main character will sometimes have a crisis of faith.  They will struggle with a decision--does one turn left, turn right, or hold steady with the course?  Often this involves them dithering back and forth, maybe seeking counsel, and maybe silent contemplation.  It is not surprising that they end up pacing, as if their repetitive walking will lead them to the correct path their minds or hearts should take.

            Frankly, Will thought it was total bullshit.

            He was pacing now for half an hour and still hadn’t come up with a damn thing.  Should he comment on the violet’s meaning?  Should he let it go and just continue to let the emotional dance between Tom and himself continue?  Or should he put an end to this and save himself what he was sure was just going to lead to heartache?

            Well, was he sure about that last one?  _Christ, not another thing to be indecisive about!_

            In the end, he decided on a compromise.  He would make no comment on the violet’s meaning.  He would also _not_ put an end to anything yet.  And he would allow it to continue on its present course, but here was the compromise -- he would make it easier to continue.

            Picking up his phone, he opened Tom’s last email and hit reply.  He typed in the familiar string of numbers – no explanation – and waited.

            A minute passed.  Nothing.  Two minutes, nothing.  Finally at five minutes, Will decided either Tom couldn’t figure out what the numbers meant – _highly doubting that one_ \-- hadn’t read the email yet – _most likely, or doesn’t really want to_ – or --

            Will’s phone chimed -- new text.

           

**_Tom: Hiya_ **

Will: Hullo - TY again for the violet

**_**_Tom:_** Glad you liked it_ **

Will: I do – it’s lovely

**_**_Tom:_** How are you?_ **

Will: I’m fine - Just finished dinner a bit ago

**_**_Tom:_** Meant about this morning - Are you okay?_ **

Will: Fine, TY - It was kind of you to help

**_**_**_Tom:_**_** Sorry I didn’t get there sooner_ **

Will: You don’t have to be sorry - Did you get into trouble

                       

            There was no reply for a couple of minutes and Will was getting a sinking feeling in his stomach.

           

Will: You aren’t answering

**_**_**_Tom:_**_** Rhys got kicked off the team and suspended_ **

Will: He deserved it - But what about you

**_**_**_Tom:_**_** Got kicked off the team too - So did Dylan, for his fight with Rhys yesterday  
_ **

Will: Christ, I’m so sorry

**_**_**_Tom:_**_** Not your fault - Honestly, I don’t care_ **

Will: What did your dad say

**_**_**_Tom:_**_** He’s pissed but again I don’t care_ **

Will: He never liked me - Add one more reason now LOL

**_**_**_Tom:_**_** He doesn’t know you were involved_ **

Will: Don’t you think he will find out

**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_** No_ **

Will: You didn’t tell him why you were fighting

**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_** What happens between us - Is just that; between us_ **

****

Will didn’t respond right away.  Once again, Tom was protecting him; first from Rhys and now from his father, the one person Will truly blamed for the break between friends. 

 

**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_** Did I lose you_ **

Will: No - TY again

**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_** Anytime_ **

Will: I need to get ready for bed

**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_** Go out with me tomorrow_ **

Will: …

**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_** Please - We’ll grab a bite after school_ **

Will: I’m not sure

**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_** Think on it - I will ask you again tomorrow_ **

Will: You don’t have to take me out

**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_** Rubbish - I WILL ask you again_ **

Will: I will think on it

**_**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_**_** Good - Cya tomorrow_ **

Will: Night

**_**_**_**_**_Tom:_**_**_**_** Sweet dreams_ **

****

****

Will threw his phone down and lay back on his pillows.  His mind was reeling.  Part of him was scared; he still wasn’t entirely sure he could trust Tom.  Part of him felt elated; Tom had rushed to his defense and protected him and not just from Rhys but from Thomas Sr. as well.  Part of him was excited; he really wanted that date tomorrow, he wanted to move forward regardless of his fear.  And of course, part of him felt guilty – Tom had lost the one thing he had wanted for the last six years, the captaincy of the Rugby team.  And he had lost it for him.

            There was the telltale chime and he sprang for his phone to check the email that he hoped was from Tom.

            He was not disappointed.  He didn’t even need to open it as the subject line told him at once what was inside – **Re: _Sonnet XLIII – Elizabeth Barrett-Browning._**

Sweet dreams indeed.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not familiar, Sonnet XLIII (43), it is the famous, unnamed sonnet that starts with  
> “How do I love thee, let me count the ways”


	12. Gifts

 

* * *

 

            Will woke with a smile on his face.  He had lovely dreams of green fields and wild flowers and funny little houses in the ground.  Tom was there again, looking like a warrior-king, all gorgeous and sexy.

            Donna was in the kitchen making breakfast when he finally got himself showered and dressed – maybe a little more nicely dressed than normal -- and wandered in for tea.

            “Darling,” Donna said, just finishing.  “Could you go grab the paper, love?”       

            “Sure.”  He hurried off and pulled the front door open.

            There on the mat was a potted Lavender bush and around it was planted White Clover and Forget-me-nots.  His cheeks warmed as he put the paper under his arm and gently picked up the pot with both hands and carried it back to the kitchen.

            “Oh my,” Donna said with a raised eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. 

            Will blushed but didn’t even try to hide his smile as he placed the plant on the table where the violet had rested yesterday.

            “Do the plants have any significance?”

            “Lavender stands for Love and Devotion,” Will said quietly as if saying it to himself.

            “What about the others?”

            “This one is White Clover which means ‘think-of-me’ and these are Forget-me-nots – which is self evident.”

            “Very nice,” Donna said.  “Not to mention appropriate.”  Will’s blush deepened but he didn’t care at all.  “My darling boy, if you throw this one back, let me know – I might want to have him instead!”

            “MUM!”

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

            He had barely turned off the engine when his door opened and he found Tom standing there, holding it for him.

            “How was your morning?”

            “Fine,” Will said, trying to keep his smile down.  “Thank you for the plants.  You really didn’t have to.”

            “I wanted to.”

            “Well, they’re much appreciated.”

            “So, what about after school?”

            Will thought about it for a minute or so.  He knew what his was answer was last night, but thought he should at least attempt to be coy.  However, he didn’t realize that he was not answering.

            “Hullo – do you _not_ want to go out?”

            “No!”  Will said, and watched as he got a very defeated look in return.  “I mean, not _no_ , I don’t want to go out, I just meant _no_ as in that wasn’t my answer – I mean, yes.  Yes I will go out with you.”

            “Brilliant!  I’ll meet you here after last class.”

            “Okay.  Sounds perfect.”

            “Great, see you then.”  Tom seemed to hesitate and for a moment, Will was sure he was going to be kissed but then Tom just nodded and said ‘Great’ a few more times and then wished him a good day before taking off.

            Just like the day before, Will sleepwalked through the day.  But he was on cloud nine and frankly, he just didn’t care about anything else.  He was finally, _finally,_ going to have a date with Tom Durlin!  He had waited for this day since he was old enough to understand dates – so since about eight – and he just couldn’t believe it was finally here.

            As he headed to the car park, he ducked into almost every men’s room along the way to check and recheck his look; his hair, his clothes, whatever.  When he eventually got to the park itself, he saw Tom chatting with Dylan and Owen.

            “Conspiring are you?”  Will asked, good-naturedly.

            “No!  Of course not!  Don’t be silly!”  They all answered at once like an out-of-tune Greek chorus and looking exactly the opposite from their statements.  Not that Will cared of course.

            “Okay – I was just teasing.”  Will laughed but was taken aback.  Clearly they were chatting about him.  “I’m ready when you are.”

            “Great!”

            Tom and Will wished the other two good-bye and Will offered to drive since Tom had asked him out.  But Tom insisted that he drive since he had a surprise. 

            Will was already intrigued and decided to just go with the flow.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

            Thorin was ready to shit a brick.

            “So nothing has worked yet?”  Ori was really surprised.  “Not even the Lavender?”

            “No!” Thorin said, exasperated.  “And I thought _for sure_ that would do something.  Bloody hell – he had that crap planted all around the front door of Bag End!”

            “I still think you need to bash him in the head!”  Dwalin was emphatic that it would work.

            “I haven’t ruled that out.”  Thorin kept looking around, waiting for Will to show up.  “But it will be the last resort.”

            “Agreed,” Ori said.  He was not at all convinced on the head-butting but they were running out of ideas.  “You have everything else?”

            “Yeah.  Right here.” Thorin patted his rucksack.  “I have it all under –”

            “Conspiring are you?”  Will’s voice made them all jump around.

            “No!  Of course not!  Don’t be silly!”  Thorin, Dwalin and Ori all spoke at once and it only made it sound that much _more_ like they were.  But thankfully, Will didn’t appear to care.

            “Okay – I was just teasing.” Will shot them an amused, but still perplexed look.   “I’m ready when you are.”

            “Great!”  Thorin hoped he didn’t sound as soppy as he thought he did.  “We’ll see you two later.”

            Dwalin, Ori and Will bid each other good-bye and Thorin led them to the cars.

            “I can drive,” Will offered good-naturedly.  “I mean, you asked me out so it’s the least I can do.”

            “No, no.” Thorin didn’t want Will to be able to just drive off if anything or everything went south.  “I have a surprise, so it’s easier for me to drive.”

            “Okay.  You’re in charge.”  Will smiled happily and Thorin wished he really did have a clear plan.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

            The place was really nice.  Will had expected more than a pub but this was cloth napkins and tablecloths.  Yes, it was supposed to be a date – he got that, but it was still just after school and he felt totally underdressed and self-conscious.

            “You look fine,” Tom told him for the third time. “It’s not a fancy place.”

            “I still would have worn something better than my jeans and my green jumper.”

            “You look great.”

            Will felt his cheeks get a bit warm and he wanted to say something to Tom but the waitress came over and took their order.  Tom ordered an ale but Will thought it best to stick with hot tea and a glass of water.  The last thing he wanted to do was down a glass or two of wine and then have his mouth start spewing nonsense. 

            Or worse, the truth.

            They had small talk for several minutes.  They talked of school and plans for University afterwards.  Tom was unsure and Will confessed that he was not going away but staying close since he didn’t want his mum to be alone.  Tom thought that was wonderful and commended Will on his decision, and once again, Will felt his cheeks and ears brighten when Tom threw him a warm smile.

            _God, I am so fucking glad I didn’t order wine!_

They were quiet for a minute until Tom finally spoke up.  “I have something for you.”  He pulled up his rucksack from under his chair and started going through it.

            “Oh, Tom, you didn’t have to do that!  You’ve done so much already.”

            “A couple of plants and a few poems.  Not so much.”

            _It was to me._ “Really – you don’t have to impress me.”

            “Not trying to impress.”  Tom found what he was looking for, put his rucksack back under his chair and turned to Will, offering him a small white box.  It looked like a jewelry box.

            Will huffed out of exasperation – it was just too much.  But he didn’t want to upset or insult Tom.  So, he took the box, untied the lavender colored ribbon, removed the lid and just stared.

            Inside was a small pendant of amethyst.   It was a simple crystal shard about two centimeters long, one end pointed and the other flat, which was where molten gold had been cast to create a cap and then fine thin gold wire was used to wrap around and create a loose filigree.  It was hung on a chain of gold and was the perfect length to hang so that the amethyst would rest in the center of Will’s chest, near his heart.  It was – perfect.  It wasn’t fancy, it was just enough to be seen and admired but not to overwhelm or look gaudy. 

            He looked at Tom and opened his mouth, wanting to say something – _anything,_ but he was speechless. 

            “You’re welcome,” Tom said with a smile and proceeded to clasp the chain around Will’s neck.  The amethyst looked beautiful against the sage green jumper.

            Will smiled and wasn’t sure what else to say.  It was just too much.  He wasn’t used to being showered with gifts to begin with and now, he had them left, right, and center since Monday.  He had the feeling, though, that Tom was waiting for something.

            “I can’t thank you enough,” Will said.  “It’s really beautiful.”

            “I know that purple is your favorite color.”

            “Yes, I figured you did.  The violet and lavender spoke volumes to your memory!”  Will giggled, but Tom had a funny look on his face that quelled Will’s laugh.

            “And stones have meaning as much as plants.” 

            Will looked down at the pendant and touched it lightly with his fingertips.  “What does amethyst mean?”

            “It has many – meanings.”

            Will nodded and hummed an acknowledgement but waited for Tom to continue, because the look in his eyes said that he would.

            “Many believe that it offers protection – from evil.  But it’s also associated with healing, good dreams, peace, and – uhm –” Will waited; he knew where this was going.  “Well, it’s also associated with February and – and, love.”

            “I see,” Will looked down again and could feel the warm blush spread across his cheeks and ears.  “If you will excuse me, I need to use the – facilities.”

            He got up and made his way to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.  _Holy shit!_   His face was beet red and looked like he had fallen asleep for several hours in the sun.  He took some paper towels, ran them under cold water, and pressed his face in them.   He just needed to catch his breath and relax.  _It is just a gift – that’s all. No big deal._ Right, and then he was hit with all the meanings of Tom’s gifts; devotion, protection, love. 

            His face lit up like a Christmas tree.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

            Thorin gritted his teeth and grabbed his phone, typing away like mad.

 

            **_WHY THE HELL CAN’T I JUST CUT SOMETHING’S HEAD OFF_**

There was no reply for several long seconds, before Dwalin answered back.

 

            I take it, it hasn’t worked yet

_**No!  I just gave him the pendant and nothing**_

            Ori says relax and just enjoy your food

            **_Bloody easy for you to say_**

Ori says Bilbo likes food, maybe that will trigger something

            **_Maybe if he were cooking, but I doubt just eating it will work_**

Stop being a prat and just relax

            **_I gotta go, he’s coming back_**

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

            “Sorry to be long,” Will said as he sat down.  “Who were you texting?”

            “Oh, - uhm – just Dylan.”

            Will laughed but wasn’t surprised.  “You two are conspiring, aren’t you?”

            “No!  Really, he just had a ques –”

            “Tom.  I really am just joking.”  Will placed a hand on Tom’s arm to calm him and both of them laughed. 

            Their food arrived and Will spent the next hour just chatting and catching up.  They talked about their families and home and interests.  Will marveled that as much as they had grown and changed in the last six years, much was still the same.  They talked of movies and music and found they still had similar tastes.  They talked about politics, of all things, and found that they could at least meet in the middle; Tom being a little hawkish and Will still the diplomat.  They talked of traveling and where they would like to go if they could just pack up and “run off” as Tom had said.

            It was an easygoing and casual afternoon but Will was keenly aware of little things.  Tom would press his knee against Will’s, which was subtly provocative.  Will loved to watch Tom eat as he could consume a huge amount of food, and he wielded his knife like it was sword cutting through enemy lines.

            In fact, there was a few times where watching Tom use his steak knife, Will was suddenly hit with a vision of Tom holding a long curved blade and rushing into battle.  Will had to shake his head a few times to refocus but apparently Tom didn’t notice so it was all good.

            When dessert was ordered and they sat enjoying cheesecake and trading dirty jokes in barely audible whispers, Tom suddenly produced another wrapped gift, much to Will’s shock and surprise.

            “Tom!  Really, it’s all too much!”

            “Just open it.”

            Will sighed and rolled his eyes.  Clearly he was not going to have a say about any of this.

            He cleaned his hands and then pulled off the wrapping paper.  The box was small, just a bit smaller than a sheet of paper but about three inches high.  Once again, Will’s breath was taken away when he removed the lid.

            Nestled in pristine white tissue paper was a book.  It was only the size of a five-by-eight index card and about five centimeters thick.  Its dark blue cover was in near mint condition but Will could tell just at sight that it was old.  Across the front, in gold letters, it said The Oxford Book of English Verse.  The binding was not cracked or broken, the pages had aged to a soft parchment color and when he gently removed it from the box, Will saw that it was published in nineteen-forty, while the poetry covered the years from twelve-fifty to nineteen-eighteen.

            For the second time that day, Will was speechless. 

            And while he loved the pendant and the plants, this book was the most glorious and precious gift he had ever received.  And it had come from someone who he was quickly realizing was just as precious to him.

            Will wanted to say thank you, he wanted to say so much but he could only offer a small smile and try to keep his chin from quivering as he was on the verge of losing it.  Tom seemed to know and returned a soft smile of his own and gently squeezed Will’s hand in silent welcome to Will’s own silent gratitude.

            Will protested when Tom paid the bill but in the end he just gave up.  One can’t fight a tidal wave.  As they drove back to school to get his car, Will considered it a perfect date.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

            It was such a disaster!

            Not a total disaster but nothing had worked so far and Thorin was feeling frustrated and impatient.  They had made small talk and Thorin tried to steer to family and interests, hoping gardening or good food or wine or adventures would trigger something.

            But no.

            He had given the gifts, thinking that talk of the meanings would spark a memory or start a cascade in Will’s mind.  The book alone should have done something but it also brought no results.  Although, Thorin had to admit, the sheer joy on Will’s face was worth it.  The plants, the poems, shit, even the pendant should have done something as well, but no luck.

            Maybe Dwalin was right.  And sad as it seemed, Thorin was going to have to do something – physical.   He wasn’t sure but it had to happen soon because they were pulling into the car park and there was the car and Will would just drive away.

            They made more small talk until it became clear that Will had to go.  That was when inspiration struck.  It was one thing to do it by accident with Dwalin in the hospital, but doing it on purpose was another thing entirely.

            Thorin insisted that he open the door for Will so that he could get out easier and as he came around and stood there, he just had to time it right.  As Will swung his legs out and started to stand up, Thorin dropped his keys and then made to reach down to pick them up at the same time.  He braced himself and then – WHAM!

            The hit was hard enough to knock Thorin to his knees and send Will back down into the car on his arse.

            “Jesus Christ!”  Will said. 

            Thorin was seeing stars.  This was the third time within a week that he had smashed his head and he prayed to Mahal that it would be the last.  “Are you okay?”  He asked Will, who was holding his forehead with both hands.  ”Sorry about that.”

            “It’s – okay.  It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

            “Right!”  Thorin hoped his laugh didn’t sound too fake.  “Who would plan that?”  More fake laughing.

            “Well, Dylan maybe.”

            “Yeah, right?  I will have to – uhm – to tell him that.”  Thorin was finally able to stand back up and put out a hand to help Will out of the car.  They walked over to Will’s car and, again, Thorin reached out and opened the door for him. 

            “Well, thank you for a lovely afternoon,” Will said, after placing his book on the passenger seat.

            “It was my pleasure.”  And Thorin meant it.  It was a pleasure; just not in the way he had hoped.  He leaned forward, feeling the need to at least give a good-bye kiss, but Will suddenly jerked back and threw Thorin a startled look.

            Both started offering apologies.  Thorin knew he was pushing it so soon but everything he hoped and wanted so badly was right there and it had been too tempting.  Will was saying sorry and going on about it was just too soon but not that he didn’t want it to happen, but this and that and soon they were both stammering and the moment grew very awkward.

            Finally, Will got in and drove away, and Thorin was left wondering what exactly he was doing wrong. 

            Maybe he really did deserve this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where I got the information for amethyst: http://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amethyst
> 
> The book described is my own copy, and it’s a sight to behold!  
> The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250-1918, Chosen and Edited by  
> Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, New Edition  
> Oxford University Press, New York & Toronto, 1940


	13. The End

* * *

 

            “It didn’t work,” Thorin said quietly.  “None of it worked.” 

            Thorin found himself, once again, rocking slowly in Ori’s computer chair.  He had gone to see Dwalin and Ori as soon as Will had driven out of the car park.

            “Not even smacking his head?” Dwalin said, confusion on his face.

            “Not even that.”

            “The Book didn’t trigger anything either?”  Ori asked.  He had been convinced that an old book, especially one so beautiful and appropriate would have done the trick.

            “He liked it.  A lot.  But no, no response beyond nearly crying and clutching it to his chest like a shield.” 

            The three friends sat for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts.

            “What else is there to try?”  Dwalin asked finally.

            “Nothing I can think of,” Thorin replied.  “I offered apologies, admitted fault, protected him, used Khuz-dul, I gave him courting gifts, flowers, gems, poems, the book – hell, I actually broke down and head-butted him for Christ’s sake!  I made sure he knew the meanings of the gifts I gave and still, nothing.”

            Ori sat up, a bright light in his eyes.  “Maybe you should sing for him!  That worked on the quest.”

            “Nice try,” Thorin said, dismissively, “but I was humming in the car earlier and he giggled and told me that a bumblebee carried more of a tune.  So I think it’s safe to say that won’t work this time.”  Ori sat back, disappointed.

            Thorin stopped rocking as a not-so-pleasant thought came to him.  “Maybe this is the lesson I needed to learn in this life.”

            “What the hell do you mean by that?!”  Dwalin sounded almost pissed off.

            “I mean look at you two,” Thorin continued.  “Clearly the lesson for you both was to not let the other go.  Neither of you confessed your feelings for the other.” He turned to Ori.  “You never told Dwalin how you felt, so feeling that your love was unwanted or unrequited, you left for Khazad-dûm.  But Dwalin never told you his feelings for you and so he let you go, thinking you uncaring and then living the rest of his long life alone, and lamenting the fact that you died.”  Dwalin and Ori said nothing but clung tighter to each other throughout Thorin’s speech.  “You have learned that lesson now.  You have wasted no time and I am happy for you both.  Truly I am.

            “But I was worse, you see.  I took Bilbo for granted.  I didn’t tell him because of arrogance; because I thought I would always have time.  I thought he would be proud to be by me, not because of my love for him, but because I was King – I thought he should be grateful!

            “In the end, I ruined it myself!  I cast him off like an old shoe, abused him and when I finally realized that my time was ending, did I tell him of my love?  Did I tell him what he meant to me?  No, I begged his forgiveness and wanted to part as friends!  I didn’t even consider how my death would hurt and punish him for the rest of his days. 

            “Now I have him back – and it is I who is being punished.  To be with him daily and for him not to see me – to see _us_ – for what we truly are, that is my punishment for the crimes I have committed upon him in both this and our former lives.

            “When all is said and done, my lesson is easy.  I cannot possess him.  He is not a trophy to win, nor a jewel to own.  And I must accept that.”  
            Thorin stood and went to leave.

            “It’s time for one last gift.”

 

\-----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            The knock was just enough to rouse Donna from her dozing on the couch.  She switched off the TV and made her way to the front door.

            “Well, hello stranger!”  she said with a big smile.  “It’s been a long time, Tom.”

            “Good-evening, Mrs. Baggs.  Is Will at home?”

            “Absolutely.” Donna turned and called for Will.  A few moments later, there was the sound of soft bare feet on the wooden floor and Will came into view.  His face showed surprise at his guest, and his cheeks flushed as he smiled.

            “What are you doing here?”  Will asked quietly.

            “I just came by to see you.  Is it too late?”

            “Ah, no.  Come in, please.”  Will waved Tom in.

            “I’ll go put some water on,” Donna said, shutting the door and giving her son a pointed look.  “Why don’t you and Tom go out to the conservatory and I will let you know when tea is ready.”

            Will watched his mother hurry off and turned to Tom.  “Come on.”  He touched Tom’s elbow to draw his attention and then led him out to the conservatory.

            The night sky was beautiful through the glass roof and Will sat on the white wicker settee and patted the other side for Tom to take it.  Will had the feeling though that he needn’t have done it.

            “Thank you again for today,” Will said, moving to sit sideways so that he could face Tom directly.

            “You are more than welcome.”

            “And I have been reading the book – it’s truly wonderful.”

            “Good.  I am very pleased you liked it.”

            Will thought Tom looked nervous.  “Is there something wrong?”  _God, please don’t let there be._

“No.  Not at all.  I just – I just have – well, I came by because – well, I have something to give you.”

            “Tom –.”

            “This is the last thing.”              

            Something about the word ‘last’ made Will apprehensive but he watched as Tom reached into his rucksack and pulled out a box that was square and just a bit bigger than his palm.  He untied the simple red ribbon that kept it closed and opened it.

            Inside was a palm-size piece of rose quartz cut into a heart shape.  It looked like pale pink glass and while it was cool to the touch, and was heavier than its size would indicate, it was still comfortable in his hand.  It was then that he noticed a small folded slip of paper inside the box.

            Will opened the paper and stared at the words:

 

**_My true love has my heart …_ **

           

            Will’s throat tightened and he tried to swallow to clear it.  He gazed at Tom, who was also swallowing and whose eyes were a bit bright.

            “It’s a true statement.  You figuratively have my heart in your hands.  If you want it.”

            Will could barely breathe but somehow, he was able to take a single breath.  “This isn’t the whole line of the poem.”

            “No.  It isn’t.  But I didn’t want to assume.”

            “My true love has my heart …. and I have his,” Will whispered.  “You have always had mine, whether you knew it or not.”

 

 -----oooooOOOOO88888OOOOOooooo-----

 

            Thorin sat there, watching the tears well up in Will’s eyes.  He reached out, took both the slip of paper and the quartz heart, placed them back in the box and set the box on the table beside them.

            Turning, he cupped Will’s face in both hands and drew their lips together; Will's hands came up on Thorin’s shoulders.

            _I will always love you,_ Thorin thought, _though you will never know how much, how deep nor from whence it came, but I swear I will love you to the end of my days and beyond, for no matter the skin you wear, I will always be yours._

Will suddenly gasped as if struck and pulled away, his hands tightening on Thorin’s shoulders painfully until he gazed up at him with wide-eyes.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, his tears finally cascading down his cheeks.

            Thorin smiled and his heart swelled.  “Hello, burglar.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose Quartz is used to symbolize Love (in case you couldn’t figure that out).
> 
> “My true love hath my heart, and I have his” is the first line from the poem “The Bargain” by Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586).


	14. Just The Beginning

* * *

 

 

_**MY INSPIRATION FOR YOUNG THORIN AND BILBO** _

 

 

 

            The view was less than stellar but the knothole in the fence offered a decent view of the conservatory next door.  The two young men sitting next to each other kissed and then one pulled back as if startled.  But this was only for a few moments and then they were kissing much more passionately.

            “About time!” Gandalf muttered to himself.

            Honestly, if he had known how long it would take Thorin Oakenshield to rouse the memory of Bilbo Baggins from the mind of his young next door-neighbor, he would have marched over there and just completed the damn thing himself.

            “Leave it to that stubborn Dwarf to use every method possible and _not_ try the simplest thing first!”  Gandalf tied his long white robe tighter around him and made his way back into the house.  “If he had just kissed him days ago, they would have been much happier!  But, all’s well that ends well.”

            He closed the back door behind him and made his way into the clutter-strewn parlour as a large Rainbow Macaw spoke to him.

            “Who’s a fool?  You’re a fool!”  The colorful bird screeched.

            “Quiet, Sybil.”  Gandalf said to the bird, as he turned to the over large desk.  “Now where did I put that book?”

            Finding what he was looking for, he threw it on the desk and moved his giant crystal ball over, so as not to knock it off the surface.

            He lit his pipe with his finger and took a few, calming puffs.

            “Now, what should we do about the remaining ten dwarfs?”  Gandalf mused to himself before letting loose a loud, riotous laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sybil the bird makes an appearance from one of my favorite old movies, “Bell, Book and Candle” starring Kim Novak, Jimmy Stewart, Jack Lemon, Elsa Lancaster and the fabulous Hermione Gingold.


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